Partners in Crime
by Tazmy
Summary: John and Rodney were willing to risk anything to save their teammates. [One Shot]


**Partners In Crime**

by Tazmy

Rating: 13+ for swearing

Genre: Gen, (Near) Future Fic, Stargate Atlantis, No spoilers.

Words: 3,842

**Description: John and Rodney were willing to risk anything to save their teammates.**

A/N: With thanks to KodiakBear, Angw, and Sholio for the betas, patience, and inspiration.

* * *

The civilian sector was nothing like Rodney had imagined. Working on government contracts for the last twenty-five years had spoiled him more than he realized, and the dull hum of hardly Top Secret work was enough to drive any scientist crazy. After only a few weeks of working for some no-name company, Rodney had had enough. He'd saved plenty of money, and if his work couldn't satisfy him, there was no reason to stay. 

That's when he decided there was only one place for him to go. Kansas wouldn't normally have been his first choice, but it seemed the one place he could find understanding, even if it was for only short segments at a time.

Week ten in the state, and Rodney's routine had fixed itself. Eat breakfast—miss his team. Take a shower—miss Atlantis and her constant flow of hot water. Visit John—keep from attacking everyone in sight.

Taking his jacket from a nearby closet, he couldn't help but notice how different it felt from his Atlantis uniform. Everything from the lack of Teyla's laughter at breakfast to having to find his own food reminded him of what he had lost. But it was worth it. Given the same circumstances that had brought him back to Earth, he'd make the same choices. He knew John would too, and John hadn't been allowed to return to a cozy apartment.

Hesitating just long enough to close his eyes and remind himself that everything was okay, Rodney took hold of the hotel room's doorknob and wandered out into the busy street. There were so many people, another reminder that this was not Atlantis. This was not home. It would have been easier if it was an alien planet, though Kansas might have qualified as close enough.

The trip to Leavenworth didn't take long. Already used to the charade that the guards insisted on playing every visit, which amounted to every day, Rodney submitted to the routine searches of himself and the items he carried. At last they brought him to the visitors' room and told him to wait, which Rodney did by tapping his fingers on the desk to the beat of a traditional Satedan battle song Ronon had taught them. The guards wouldn't understand this as a protest, but Rodney knew and that was enough.

There was a loud click before the door opened, John standing on the other side. "Ah, if it isn't my partner in crime," John said halfheartedly. Despite the handcuffs and prison outfit, he still looked absolutely cocky and in control, leaning nonchalantly against the door.

"Hey, I'm not the one that decided to shoot the general. That was all your doing."

"I didn't shoot him, Rodney. He was stupid and jumped in front of my st—gun when it accidentally went off."

"Yes, a story with absolutely nothing suspicious about it. Makes me wonder why the court martial didn't go in your favor."

The two guards that escorted John gazed at one another. It was the same banter every time, and their expressions had gone from originally shocked and intrigued to bored and annoyed.

"Ten minutes," the taller guard reminded them before closing the door.

Rodney waited a moment for John to start the conversation, but barely a second had passed before he could no longer resist saying, "You would have two of the three stooges for your guards, wouldn't you?"

"We've been through this Rodney, Jacobs doesn't look like Moe and Reys definitely isn't Larry."

"Oh come on, the resemblance is uncanny!"

"Can we please not have this conversation again? Thirty more days of this same conversation and I may have to shoot myself."

"I'm just saying…Fine, just, uh, what do you want to talk about?"

Unable to take sitting any longer, Rodney stuffed his hands in his pockets and began pacing. Prisons were all about keeping people confined in tight spaces, and the fact that John had to spend the next twenty years here just made that whole closed in feeling worse. If Rodney had been the one forced into imprisonment, he would have gone mad in a fortnight—probably sooner.

"Hear from home lately?"

"Yeah. The city is fine. Teyla and Ronon are fine. Everyone's fine."

"They wouldn't be if it wasn't for us. You know that right?"

Rodney gazed down at the concrete floor, nodding slowly. "We both know we're not the criminals." He wondered if John could see his clenched fists despite the pockets. He tried not to think about that day, about the decision that'd had to be made, because to think of it was to realize how terribly unfair the universe really was.

"Yeah." John leaned back in his chair, looking older than he ever had on Atlantis.

"Yeah? That's all you have to say? After everything that's happened?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Oh."

Silence filled the room, threatening to take over. Each day more of it inched into the conversation, making Rodney's anger only grow that much deeper. Given a Puddlejumper, he'd blow away the prison wall.

If Sheppard was still angry, he rarely showed it. Prison had made him docile, and that above everything else had made Rodney scared. Was he losing his friend to this place?

"You still don't have a job? Find a place to live yet?" John asked.

Rodney jumped slightly. He had grown used to the silence. Another scary thought.

"Nah, I've taken to setting my thoughts on other matters." He stared meaningfully at his friend and John gave the slightest nod to show he understood.

"Just don't do anything stupid."

"Please, Colonel, it's me. Genius is the antithesis of stupid."

John flinched as Rodney realized his mistake; the tension in the room grew—worse than the silence.

The docile face fell, and a brief flare of anger lit Sheppard's expression. "It's John, Rodney. Not Colonel. Not anymore. Not ever again. I'm not with these people."

"But if you had the chance to go back, you would, right?" Rodney made sure to catch John's stare, to express with more than words that he understood better than anyone.

The familiar clicking sound of the door unlocking was followed by Moe announcing that time was up. Breaking the silent conversation, Rodney turned away from his friend, stuffing his hands back in his pockets if only to keep from hitting the guard and trying for rescue.

…

John enjoyed art class of all things. He could take all the images in his mind from worlds he had visited and put them to paper where they were forever immortalized. The nun that ran the class was a nice old lady that had her heart in the right place. She believed all of them could be rehabilitated, but she didn't realize John didn't care much for Earth's version of such a thing. No, given his choices, he was happy to hear himself called a rogue.

Art class was also the only interesting thing to be had in the prison. The food was worse than even what Atlantis had had during the harder times. Getting out to see the sun was only a reminder of his loss—suns were far more beautiful from the pilot seat of a jumper. Then there were job rehab meetings he had to attend, which was ridiculous since he still had 19 years and some months to go before he left this place and found the coziest desert island to call home. Sometimes he drew that island, but it always ended up looking like the Athosian Mainland.

His favorite drawing, though it looked nothing like them, was of his team. He had managed, somehow, to capture Teyla's smile and that above all else was what kept him going. He was here so she and Ronon could live; that was a compromise he could handle, even if it still hurt inside.

More than art, John enjoyed Rodney's company. He never would have believed when he first met the guy that they could be such close friends, but now he wasn't sure what he'd do without him. His mom had always told him that one could tell a real friend from just a buddy by whether or not they stood by you no matter the cost. Rodney, John, Teyla, and Ronon had been together through hell and back; there was no doubting their friendship.

"You have a vivid imagination," Sister Mary commented as he worked on a painting of 'George', a monster turtle that had once followed him home from the mainland. He looked up to see her face, clearly horrified by the large fangs and sharp claws, but trying not to be. Was she secretly analyzing what this picture had to say about him?

John smiled, leaning back against his chair. "You have no idea."

If only George were here. If anyone could break him out of Leavenworth, it would be that crazed turtle.

Day in and day out, that was John's life. Could it be called a life if he spent most of it in memories? He wasn't exactly sure, but, in three years, he had lived more than any man could have dreamed. Maybe that was all he could hope for.

…

Rodney wasn't surprised when the military showed up at his door that night. He'd been expecting them since Radek had told him that the plans were done. He didn't want to let the two colonels in, and he did dream of poisoning their coffee, but he opened the door and reluctantly allowed their entrance, knowing that everything was falling into place.

"To what do I owe the displeasure of your company?" he asked, handing each of them a mug, wishing he'd had the stomach to at least spit in them.

"There's a problem with Atlantis," Colonel something-or-other answered, stiff-backed and impassive.

"Is anyone in imminent danger? Meaning more-so-than-usual, of course."

"Not directly, no."

"I see. So this problem you speak of would concern me, why?" Sweaty palms made his 'Greatest Genius' mug slippery. Afraid of dropping it, he placed it back onto the coffee table.

"This is a matter of world security. The fight with the Wraith is a serious matter. One that could lead to all of our deaths."

"Which has been the situation all along. Did you come here to tell me something new or just to bother me?"

Rodney tried to avoid eye contact, but the Colonel was obviously looking for it and backing away would only look suspicious. Buckling down, Rodney settled for glaring at the man.

The colonel continued, "Atlantis is no longer responding as it should. The database has somehow locked itself down, and now all access to the _serinium_ shipments stored there have been cut off. Dr. Zelenka is at a loss to what is happening. Our finest scientists can find no evidence of tampering or any other cause that might be behind this."

Hiding a victorious smile, Rodney leaned back casually. "So, in short, you need me to return and fix this so you can have access to your precious metal that you were willing to sacrifice two of my team members to get in the first place?"

The colonel's back managed to stiffen more while his partner showed no signs of movement. The stiff-backed one continued, "Which we eventually managed to retrieve despite your carefully planned sabotage, yes. But we are not talking about the lives of your teammates, who might I remind you, did survive—"

"No thanks to you, right?"

The colonel didn't flinch at the interruption. He merely placed his cup back down on the table, straightened, and then spoke as if he had never stopped. "We are talking a power source that comes with no consequences but can save all of us one day. We are talking about a database filled with the knowledge of the Ancients! Knowledge that saves lives. Do you really want the death of billions on your conscience, Dr. McKay? Billions you could have saved."

Rodney fumed. What was it the general had said before? _Teyla and Ronon are not from Earth. There is no reason I can see to trade for their lives. _Rodney knew he was ready to lose control again, so he began to breathe as Teyla had taught him, centering all his frustrations away from his mind. Slowly, he muttered, "You never had to sacrifice them. There were other ways."

The colonel answered sharply, "That's not the conversation we're having at the moment. We need your help, Dr. McKay, that's all that matters now."

"Convenient, isn't it? You'd think I left Atlantis on my own volition."

The other man, the one that had stayed silent until now, relaxed his arm on his cushy stomach. His voice was slow and raspy, as though he had stayed up all night thinking what he would say. "We could have left _you_ in prison, Doctor. You'd do well to remember that."

Rodney shook his head, feeling his fingernails dig into his skin. "Are you threatening me?"

"No. Merely reminding you that we're not the enemy."

"More false words have never been spoken." Rodney scoffed, letting his hands fly into the air. Viciously, he pointed at them with angry gesticulations. "The wolf might wear sheep's clothing, but he's still a wolf. You forget, Colonel, Sheppard _is _in prison."

"Sheppard shot a three star general while disobeying direct orders and sabotaging a top level mission. He's damn lucky that he's _only_ in confinement."

Shaking slightly, Rodney tore his stare away, making a show of concentrating on the clock. "Yes, well, if that's all you came to say, I'd appreciate it if you left now and took the stick stuck up your behinds with you."

The colonels made no move to get up. They looked at each other then back to Rodney. The less emotional one spoke again. "We can't release him, you realize that right? That can't be part of a deal."

"Give him his job back or I can't help you."

"Billions of lives, Doctor!"

"Then, seeing as I'm the only one that can help you, I suggest you do as I ask. Otherwise, get the hell out of my hou—hotel room."

…

When Rodney had first discovered the serinium deposits, he had realized at once their potential, explaining to John wildly about its possible uses. Unlike most power sources, this one was in the hands of allies that were more than willing to share. Unfortunately, two days before a deal could be struck, war had broken out on the planet between a rebel faction and the government. Ronon and Teyla had been captured and displayed on Atlantis's viewing screen, bleeding and bruised. The rebel leaders asked for nothing more than the serinium in return for their lives. 

Had the serinium's potential been understood by the faction, that would have been one thing. As it was, it was merely a religious source to them which helped them to pray, not blow each other up. They were a violent sect, this was true, but the serinium was harmless in their hands. No one liked the idea of negotiating with a hostile rebel group, but the planet's government was more than willing to let Atlantis negotiate under the circumstances.

To everyone on Atlantis the answer was easy: get Ronon and Teyla and find a way to get some serinium later. An obvious answer to everyone but General Jackass, as he was later dubbed. He'd only been on Atlantis to see to the serinium shipment. The government was most anxious to get their hands on the element, and with the Wraith breathing down their backs, John didn't blame them.

"This is Teyla and Ronon we're talking about. We can get more serinium later," he argued during the briefing.

"No," the general interrupted, turning his rotund body toward the Colonel. "Every moment we lose studying this serinium is another moment we lose in the fight against our enemies."

John stared into the general's eyes with a glare that would make any warrior tremble. "I'm not sacrificing members of my team so that you can have the serinium a few days earlier, _Sir_."

The general's mustache seemed to curl with his determination. "Yes you will, _Colonel_. We do not negotiate with terrorists! Certainly not for the lives of two people that are not even from our own planet!"

John began to reply, but the general cut him off. "I am sorry, but in this circumstance I have full authority and I have made up my mind. You will instruct your men that the serinium is to be shipped here."

John and Rodney had been partners in crime many times since they had first met. Elizabeth could have vouched for that. But both of them knew, that night, that it might be the end of their plotting days. If General Jackass wasn't going to do the trade, they would. They hadn't expected the general to be waiting, but they weren't surprised either.

After months in Leavenworth, the memory still played in John's mind. How the general tried to stop them. How he knew Teyla and Ronon had only an hour before the rebels killed them—and how all avenues of rescue had been exhausted. Neither John nor Rodney were going to let them die, not as long as they could do something.

He'd only stunned the general, but he knew that the court martial offense would be his downfall. When Teyla and Ronon were returned that night, Rodney and John were in a holding cell, much to Elizabeth's dismay. But Sheppard's men had brought them good food, blankets, and games. One guard had even offered to leave the door open for them, but there was little sense in getting another into trouble. So it was that they ate and drank that night knowing their friends were safe, but their lives would never be the same.

John thought of this every night as he lay in his bed in the prison. It had been worth it, he would tell himself, and there was never a time that he doubted it.

…

On the first day of the fourth month in Leavenworth, Sheppard heard the guards coming to his cell. He'd assumed Moe and Larry, which he had taken to calling them despite himself, had come to take him to his daily visit with McKay. When they forwent the handcuffs and then passed the visitors room, Sheppard was confused. Then they reached a different room where McKay sat smiling as John hadn't seen him smile since Atlantis. At the sight of Sheppard, McKay jumped to his feet, chin aloft, and began rocking on his heels.

"Ready to go home?"

Confused and trying to act nonchalant, John leaned against the doorway, arms clasped around his chest. "As in home, home?"

"No, I mean not home, home. Honestly, has this placed melted your brain?"

John examined his friend for any signs of insanity or anything else to describe the strange circumstances. All he saw was an excited McKay, prouder of himself than ever.

"I don't get it. I shot a general, Rodney; assuming they are letting me out of here, they're not about to let me just return to my old job."

Rodney shrugged, his smug expression deflating. "Well, no, of course not, but that doesn't mean we can't go back."

"Um, we are talking about the same home, right? Because—"

"You're being offered a civilian job leading a team. Now I had to pull every bit of weight I had to get that much so take it or leave it, but if you leave it, I'm telling you now that I'll be offended. Not to mention Ronon might come here, kick your ass, and then drag you back anyway."

It was as though Christmas had come early. John pushed away from the wall, smiling. "There is no way you could pull this off, Rodney. No possible way."

"You and I both know I'm a miracle worker. So, are you ready to go home or would you rather spend your days here?"

Stepping outside was strange. Riding in the car, he could see all the people bustling about, running their errands. There were so many souls all living in a tight space. It was amazing how foreign Earth seemed to John now, but one thing was certain, it wasn't home. Out there where his team could be together, fighting the good fight, that was home, and as angry as John was about the whole thing, he was anxious to return.

"What's that?" Rodney asked as John finished packing the last of his suitcase. Clenched within John's left hand was a canvas of one of his last paintings.

He thought of answering 'nothing', but somehow that didn't feel right. Rodney _had_ pulled the strings to get him out, and amazingly the plan hadn't involved stealing a jumper, as John had imagined it would. Gazing back at the canvas, John drew in a deep breath before handing it over. "Laugh and I shoot you."

Rodney took the page anxiously, "Hey, when have I ever had fun at your expense?"

Rodney's expression froze as he gazed at the painting. Without a word he moved to the nearest mirror and held the canvas to his face. He tried turning it a few directions and giving various expressions before pouting. "Is this supposed to be me?"

"It's all of us, Rodney."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Now give it back because we have to go." He shouldn't have let Rodney look at it. He should have known better. Feeling highly embarrassed and wondering just how long Rodney was going to tease him about the painting, John grabbed a suitcase and headed for the door. "You coming?"

"At least you got Teyla's smile correct." Rodney grabbed his one suitcase and followed. He stopped, staring at the hotel room that had been his home for the last few months, breathing a deep sigh. "The military's still a bastard, we agreed on that, right?"

"At the very least General Jackass is, yeah."

"Okay. Just as long as we're in agreement."

Familiar blue waves carried them home. Ronon planted his massive arms around John and squeezed hard enough to possibly crush a few ribs. Teyla's greeting was more gentle with a simple hand on the shoulder and nodding of the head. Gazing at the gate room and everyone who had come to see them home, it seemed more like a dream than anything else. Looking at Rodney he could see his friend felt the same.

John settled in okay, and immediately life returned as much to normal as it could after losing his rank and position as chief military advisor. It didn't matter though. He was home with his family, two things he both loved and lived for.

After hanging the pictures of his team and George on his wall, it was time to find McKay and start plotting. There had been talk of water balloons and general mischievousness, and who was John to refuse, especially if he was the instigator.

**Fin**

A/N: 'George' is from my story John and Rodney's Mainland Adventure. Hope you enjoyed this story. I just couldn't get the image of Sheppard in prison out of my head, so naturally I had to write it. And naturally Rodney had to be his partner in crime.


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